


Simple

by aldiara



Category: Alles was zaehlt
Genre: Alles was zählt - Freeform, Angst, Character Study, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-01
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then at some point this guy from my clique wanted to know what it might be like to kiss a boy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple

His name is Martin, but no one – except his parents – ever calls him that; they call him Mark, at his insistence. He’s what you’d call a geek, Deniz supposes, but the kind who’s managed to put a spin of coolness on it: He runs a gaming site and pirates movies and music for them, and he always gets his hands on the best porn. He’s kind of thin but wiry, with messy reddish-blond hair and a smattering of freckles across the top of his cheeks, nice-looking enough if you were ever to think that sort of thing about your mates, which Deniz doesn’t.

That Friday night, the one that changes everything, they all hang out at Mark’s place while his parents are on vacation. The others are partying down in the basement, the shrill laughter of the girls rising above the music and the drunken hollering, and Deniz finds himself sitting outside on the back stairs with Mark, sharing a beer because they’re both too lazy to go downstairs and get more. It’s warm outside and there are mosquitoes; he’ll find the stings in the morning. They were talking about girls and they’re both feeling silly and buzzed, laughing at everything; and when Mark clears his throat, fiddling with the inseam of his jeans, and asks a question that starts with “Did you ever wonder…”, Deniz doesn’t think. He meets the question, and Mark’s lips, with the same bubbling cheer that’s fuelled his good mood this entire evening, the slight intoxication that comes as much from enjoying companionship as it does from the booze.

Mark’s lips are wide and chapped-looking but deceptively soft, with a bewildering hint of strength behind them that makes Deniz curious. They move slightly against his, parting just a little, and it seems the most natural thing in the world to cup his hand around the sharp line of Mark’s boy-jaw and quest between his boy-lips with the tip of his tongue. Mark exhales softly into his mouth, and the thought that drifts through Deniz’s head just then doesn’t come with a flash or a jolt or a rattle: It’s a simple thought, made only of hazy, pleasant surprise and a low thrill of excitement: _Dude, I could do this._

Then Mark jerks back suddenly from Deniz’s probing tongue. It’s too dark to see his expression, but not too dark to feel the sudden tension, a wariness that wasn’t there before.

“Well, that was gross.” Mark’s voice hits him low in the stomach, extinguishing the heat that had begun to pool there only a second before. Deniz doesn’t know how it switched or why, but the suspicion in Mark’s tone elicits a nervous tingle somewhere inside him that he doesn’t identify as fear, not yet. _I thought it was nice_ , he thinks, vaguely regretful; while out loud, for the first time, he lies.

“Yeah. Totally gross.”


End file.
